Slow Fading Embers
by LadiSmilePretty
Summary: What brought Peeta and Katniss to that meadow with their two children 15 years later after the war. This is the story of how they overcame their hardships and set backs and how their love grew from a public facade to a real and unbreakable vow.
1. Part One: Chapter 1

The night is all encompassing. It drowns out what I know to be real, that I know that I am safe, that I am home. It flashes the faces of loved ones I couldn't save and strangers whose blood still stain my hands. I moved in to the guest room of my Victor house, closing the doors to my room, my mother's, and Prim's had not been open since I arrived back in District 12. I couldn't even bring myself to walk down that hallway.

The primrose bushes that Peeta planted started blooming two days ago. Although I had graduated looking at them, I still could not touch the small colorful flowers. The thought of them dying in the cold winter or the delicate petals falling put of my hands and to the ground bring the feeling of fire over my still healing body.

Tonight is no different. I sit at the kitchen table a frigid cup of tea in my hands. I am in the same spot that Greasy Sae left me in. I have not moved or even attempted to bring the liquid to my lips. I felt lost and empty. Numb to the world around me. The only light in the house is the moon fighting it's way between the curtains. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement, not daring to look, my body tenses with the history of violence it has seen and done, I see the flick of Buttercups tail over the top of the table edge and I relax.

I let my eyes wonder back and forth over the scenery of the kitchen stopping immediately on the plate of cheese rolls on the counter. I had not spoken to Peeta since he planted the bushes and even then it was brief. I am fully conscious of how selfish I have been when it comes to him, and I feel as if my heart burst into a thousand pieces, all searing and digging their way through my charred flesh. When I think of how Peeta will never be able to look at me the same, how the boy who had fallen in love with me is lost in this man, whose memories and psychological pain will never love me. He will never be by my side again and it's all my fault. I regret not swallowing those berries when I had the chance.

It was hours before I heard the soft knock on my front door, effectively pulling me out of my stupor. I rub my eyes, no doubt deep bruises circle them from sleep deprivation. I push my self from the table, causing my tea to spill over the edges of my cup on to the table, I pull the largest knife from its container on the counter and pad my way to the door. The knife gripped in my hand so hard my knuckles turn white. I look through the peep hole in the door and see no one. Could I have imagined the noise? It was completely plausible as I had heard screams and shouts the day before, but I knew those were all in my head, all the screams and shouts belonged to those long dead.

I unlocked the first two dead bolts and then the small one on the knob it self, poised the knife in a kill position and opened the door just enough that one eye could peek out.

There he sat on the steps with his head in his hands, the moonlight bouncing off his hair like a halo of white light. His back rose and fell rapidly as if he had ran to sit right there. I open the door all the way and step out onto the stoop. The arm with the knife hanging loosely at my side. If he were having a flashback and tried to kill me at this moment, I would not stop him. I wouldn't raise a finger to defend myself, in all honesty, I welcomed it. "Peeta?" I whisper.

He heaves a sigh before he speaks, so quietly I have to step closer to hear. "Katniss," He sighs again, his hands moving from his face and hanging over the edge of his knees, he turns to look at me, his eyes bloodshot, bruises under his eyes, which I'm sure are a mirror image of mine. "I can't close my eyes."

I nod knowing the feeling all too well. I step down a step and sit next to him, our shoulders almost touching. I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on them.

I just sit with him in silence. I couldn't think of anything comforting to say, that was always Peeta's area of expertise. I am not comforting, or warm, or sweet, or even nice. I am cruel and cold, violent and deadly. But he doesn't press, he doesn't say anything either. We stay there until the sun peaks over the horizon, and watch it make it's slow decent into the sky. Peeta's favorite shade of oranges fills the cloudless sky. He sighs and looks down at his hands, fingers stained with dried paint, wringing them in and out of each other. The fidgeting bothers me, in away I can't quite describe. This moment seems so perfect and endless in our stillness and the movement seems wrong. I put my hand on his to still him, he entwines the fingers on his left hand into my right. It is the first time since I kissed him, before the explosion that we have touched. The electricity is not missed between us, but it is ignored. Neither one of us has the emotional capability to be able to put this in words or even a glance at each other.

Our silence was broken by glass shattering in a nearby home, I don't have to look to know it's coming from Haymitch's house. In my peripheral vision I see Peeta glance at the house and sigh, releasing my hand, he makes a cuff on his right wrist with the hand that was just holding mine. The heat that he left still resonating. I watch as his grips his wrists, alternating each one, he had once told me that the pain brings him back to reality. The memory of him in shackles rubbing his skin raw pulls me back to the streets of the Capital. I close my eyes pulling my knees closer and burying my face in them.

When I finally rise, Peeta is no longer next to me on the steps but walking away from me, his shoulders haunch ed, hands in his pockets. I sigh and stand, my bones protesting at the movement after being cramped for so long. I pick up the knife I had left on the stoop and open my door and lock it behind me, promising my self that I would not live long enough to recall this memory. That I would end this misery tonight.

I sit back at the kitchen table and place the knife gently next to my forgotten cup of tea. I put my arms out in front of me examining my wrists and forearms, trying to decide the best place to start. I trace the scars there with my eyes, following the map of grafts that cover my skin. I watch my skin as the lines begin to dance in front of my eyes, the memory of each one bringing a name to mind. Finnick, Johanna, Boggs, Wiress, Gale, Peeta, Prim.

Before my mind catches up with my actions the knife is in my hand and blood is pulling around my left arm onto the dark wood table. Seeping into the grain, staining it forever. I can feel my head becoming light and airy as the kitchen slips away and black consumes it.

There are no morphling addled dreams that wake me slowly, only the banging of pots and pans from somewhere close by. I can feel the plush velvet of the couch beneath me and the fabric of a bandage around my left arm. Soon another scar will mark my failure.

I hear water running from the sink and more banging of pots and pans. I know that it must be Haymitch. It has to be. Greasy Sae would not be coming today as she had told me last night. I was supposed to be alone today, able to die in peace, in away I know I didn't deserve. I deserved something violent and ugly.

I finally open my eyes and see gray-silver Seam eyes staring back. "Oh, well look who's finally graced us with her presence." Haymitch says from behind the letter he was reading. The one from Plutarch that I have successfully ignored for weeks.

I look toward the kitchen door to see who was making all that noise if Haymitch was in the living room with me. Peeta stands in the doorway kneading dough in his hands, watching my face. I roll my head back so I can stare at the ceiling. I was a complete failure. Not only couldn't I save those I loved, but I couldn't even leave this world the way that I had planned. "Katniss." He breathed in the melody of his voice that I had concluded I would never hear again. I close my eyes and try to shut it out.

The chair under Haymitch groaned as he leaned toward me. "Thought you could get way that easy did you?" His question was entirely rhetorical but I felt the need to answer anyway.

"And I would have gotten away with it a long time ago if it weren't for you." I hiss. I can feel the anger boiling in my stomach. Why couldn't they just let me die? If anyone understood why I would need to it would be them.

"And you won't as long as I'm around to prevent it." He responds, my eyes lock with his about to argue, when I catch something I've never seen in Haymitch's eyes. Sincerity, one emotion that had lived in Peeta's eyes. I realize Haymitch has nothing left to lie to me about, nothing left to hide, no need to manipulate me, no need to push me in any certain direction, except life, and that seemed as if he was trying to make a genuine attempt. "Here," he drops an unopened envelope on my stomach. It's the letter from my mother that I had refused to read. "You should read it." Before I could protest he held up his hand to stop me. "Contrary to what you may think, you don't know everything Katniss." With that he grabbed a glass with some brown liquor I had never seen and walked into the kitchen, sitting himself at the table, staring out the door.

I glanced at Peeta in the doorway. The dough still in his hands. We were all broken.

I plead with his eyes hoping he'd give me some kind of hope at an escape from this sorry excuse I had for a life, full well knowing that I would get nothing of the sort from him. Even in his deteriorated state, he would still protect me with his own life. No matter how dismal and miserable I may be. He looks down at the dough in his hands and shakes his head, turning back to the kitchen. I would get no sympathy from him.

When I'm finally alone in the living room I bring my self to a sitting position and flip the envelope in my shaking hands. I didn't want to open it. I knew what it would say. Why she couldn't be here, why it was too painful for her to come back to this place, it would be the same reasons I have for trying to take myself out of the picture entirely. But I knew Haymitch wouldn't let it go until I read it.

My mother's careful scroll raced across the paper, the ink bleeding in places where her tears had hit the page. She hadn't bothered to wipe them away.

_My brave Katniss, _

_You are so much like your father, but I'm sure you already know that. What I'm sure you haven't realized yet is how much you are just like me. Of course you have your father's looks and abilities, his humor, and his mannerisms. His love for music, and his voice. But your emotions and how you handle those are all me, my dear. The way you love and how you react to that. I hope you actually read this, you've never really wanted anything from me since your father died. Trust me, the reason does not escape me. I know how much I hurt you and your sister when he died. But look at yourself. Your reclusive, and closed off. You don't speak for days, barely sleeping, not eating unless forced to. You are doing exactly what I did, because you feel as if all the life has been taken from you. You have lost so much, but you have given so many others so much. I knew you see all the horror and death in this war as somehow your fault. And it is not hard to see how you would come to that conclusion, but you must also see all the good you have done. _

_I was petrified watching you in the games. I couldn't tear my eyes from you. I was so proud of you, still am. Prim was proud of you. She adored you. _

_You know why I can't come back to 12. I don't know if I will ever be able to come back there. _

_I love you. Please think of all that good that is now in the world because of you. _

I fold the letter back and slip it into the envelope. Haymitch was right. I lay back down on the couch and close my eyes. My mother was right too. I am her. In this moment I am my mother. My stomach twists and my eyes well immediately and a gut wrenching sob shoves its way up my throat and into the silence. I lean over the side of the couch suddenly not able to breath, I'm pulling in air as fast as I could but my lungs can't accept it. I'm crying in earnest now, the realization that I am reacting to Prim's death the same way my mother had my father's has me in a panic. All those years that I had blamed her, punished her because she was so shattered that the pain had reduced her to this. I'm sick with myself, if I had anything in my stomach, I'm sure it would be soaking into the carpet at this moment.

I'm barely aware that I'm being lifted, and seated back down, curled on a lap, until the hot breath fans across my face, leaving a cold sensation on my tear tracks. "Shh," Peeta's voice vibrates through my shaken body, "It's.." he trails off, as if he was going to say it was okay, but stops himself, he knows better. "I'm here," he rocks me gently, "Always." his lips press to my temple and I'm transported back in time, to the boy with the bread.

My gentle, sweet, friend. The boy that had saved me from starvation, from the arena, from the Capital, from myself. The boy that had been tortured into the man he was today, and my sobs started all over again. He should hate me.

I scramble to my feet and away from him, like he was the fire burning my skin. I couldn't stand to be comforted by him when he should be screaming at me, handing me the knife himself, telling me all the horrible ways I should be punished for what I've done. The words in my mother's letter overshadowed by my own thoughts.

I looked around for an escape, Haymitch blocked my way to the back door, surely he'd catch me before I even reached the handle. The front door was locked, and with my shaking hands it would be a miracle if I got it opened in time. I wrapped my arms around my knees, burying my face and sobbing so hard my back ached with the heaving gasps of air I would take. No one touched me, no one held me. They just let me cry. The only sounds in the house was my moans of pain and Haymitch's glass hitting the table periodically.

I must have cried myself asleep because the next thing I know is Haymitch is trying to slip a pillow under my head from where I still lay on the hard wood floor. My eyes are swollen and hard to open, they flutter, but Haymitch shh's me "Peeta is finally asleep." he whispers. "I'll be right here, close your eyes." I do as he says for once, too tired to fight him.

The orange light against my eyelids wakes me next. I don't know if it was the exhaustion or the blood loss but I slept through the night without a single dream. Something I hadn't experienced in years without the aid of sort of drug.

I open one eye and take in my surroundings. They are still sore from the amount of tears I had shed the night before, but far more easy to move this time. Haymitch is slumped in a side chair, his bottle of alcohol still dangling from his limp hand, head tilted back, mouth open, snoring softly. Peeta laying very still on the couch, his hands clasped on his stomach. His eyes open and stare at the ceiling. He looks over in my direction. He's searching for something, the look he gets when he's fighting memories, trying to decide which is real or not.

"No nightmares," He whispers.

"No. You?" I ask just as quiet.

"No." He looks back at the ceiling. "We would sleep together for that purpose, real or not real?"

I watch his jaw clench and unclench before he turns to look at me again. Raising his eyebrows. "Real." I answer. It was real, at first, but it was so much more than that. But I didn't have the words to explain why.

"You love me, real or not real?" He whispers after waiting for me to explain.

I roll onto my back and look up at the ceiling. I can't answer that one. It's not not real, but I don't know what that means. I see Peeta sit up out of the corner of my eye, his hands on either side of him on the edge of the couch. I don't have to look to see his knuckles turn white as he grips the cushions.

"Katniss. Was it not real?" I shake my head, I couldn't speak if I had tried. "Was it real then?" I turn my head to look at him.

I sigh and turn back to the ceiling. "I don't know." I breath. I hadn't notice that Haymitch had stopped snoring until he cleared his throat.

He placed the nearly empty bottle on the table beside him and rubbed his face with his hands. "Well since your both awake," He clapped his hands together loudly, "I should probably take this opportunity to tell you both, that we will be living together from here on out, until you are both deemed to live on your own by Dr. Aurelius." I lean up on my elbows to look at him. I'm sure my expression gets my outrage across. "Now we are all going to start on a new leaf and not to lie to each other. So," Haymitch turned his attention to me, "You should know I told Dr. Aurelius and your mother about the little stunt you pulled."

I pulled the blanket off of me trying to get up and attack him, when he was on his knees in front of me pinning my arms down.

"Now you can either cooperate and stay here and let me do my _job._ Or I can send you to District 4 and have your mother look after you in the hospital. Because if you don't let me keep you alive they will hospitalize you." His eyes meet mine, knowing that is the very last thing I want. I have the decency to downcast my eyes, the tension leaving my body, Haymitch backed up kneeling on one knee. "Now we will," He gestured to himself and me, "Will be moving into Peeta's house. I know there are too many memories for you here and Peeta's seems the safest route to go. Greasy Sae will be staying here."

I nod my head knowing there was no point in fighting, even if I had any fight left in me to give.

"I'm going to pack a few things for you, when you feel better you come and get what ever else you want." Haymitch stood and disappeared upstairs. There was rustling and I heard a vase break, a string of swears and he was back, my game bag filled. "Okay, let's go." Peeta and I both stand and follow him out the door.

Peeta took the lead when we reached the steps, taking out keys and unlocking the door, letting Haymitch and me in first, locking the door behind us.

The Victor Village's houses were practically identical, Peeta's just backwards from mine, being on the opposite side of the street. The only difference between the houses was the decor. The living room was sunny compared to my dark one. Sheer white curtains hang over the windows letting light fill the room, plush cream carpet only stopping at the doorway to the kitchen, letting a faded old wood flooring take the lead.

"Here," Peeta took my bag from Haymitch, who headed straight for the small liquor cabinet in the kitchen, "I'll show you which one will be your room."

I followed Peeta up the stairs silently. He pointed left to Haymitch's room that was at the beginning of the hall, down a few feet was a door on the right, that was his room, the next room on the left would be mine. The door that would have belonged to Prim in my house, was closed tight in Peeta's as well. I step into the starch guest room, a bed, a chest of draws, and a small table and chair to be used as a desk under the window. Peeta sets the bag down by the wall just inside the room. "There's a guest bath through that door," He points to a door in the corner next to the closet, "You should take a shower, you might feel better."

I doubted it, but I opened the door and headed for the shower. I heard the door to the room close before I turned on the water, filling the tub. I unwrap the bandage around my forearm and inspect the rough stitches there, no doubt Haymitch's handiwork. I open one of the cabinets and find a first aid kit.

I pull a sheet of pliable clear plastic and wrap it over my injury, taping the ends to my skin. Effectively making it water proof. I take my dingy cloths off slowly, sinking my aching body into the steaming water even more so. I soap up my arms, careful of the plastic, then my legs, and the rest of my body, scrubbing away dried blood. Finally all evidence of my suicide attempt are gone, except for the stitches, I lean back against the white cool stone and close my eyes, letting the steam pull the sadness from my body. I sink into the water letting it cover my face, wishing I could swim in this tub.

When I finally get out and wrap a towel around myself I'm more exhausted then when I went in. There is a tray of bread and jam, and cup of tea still letting wisps of hot air out. I sip on the tea slowly letting it hit my empty stomach. Taking a ginger bite of the bread as if testing it, then not realizing how hungry I actually was, practically inhale both slices of bread. I glance out the window and see my front door, the three small primrose bushes illuminated in the light of early dusk.

I close the blinds, grabbing the game bag and emptying it on my bed. I pull my cloths on and twist my hair into a braid down my back.

I chance a look in the mirror by the door, the dark circles under my eyes are practically gone, the grafts on my neck almost healed, leaving soft pink lines where they met with my unburned skin. There was color to my cheeks, most likely due to the full night sleep and the small meal I had just consumed. My hair still stuck out from the braid, too short to reach the end, but it was growing. I go to the bathroom and re-bandage my arm and finally wonder downstairs. Haymitch is nowhere to be found, probably drinking himself to sleep in his room. Peeta sat with sketch book in front of him at the kitchen table. I padded to the doorway, the carpet concealing my approach. "Hey." I said, he jumped startled. I should have made some noise. "Sorry," I look down to the floor.

"It's okay," He says, a ghost of a smile barely reaches his lips. "I was just thinking."

I nod and move to sit in the chair across from him. "What were you thinking about?"

He gestures to the pad in front of him, the page blank, pencil poised in his hand. "I want to draw, but I just can't get my hands to move."

My brows knit together, not quite understanding.

He continues, "I want to put something down on paper, something to keep my hands busy, but I can't get them to move." I can see by his face that memories are flashing behind those blue eyes.

I look around the kitchen and pull a fruit bowl filled with bananas and apples, peaches, pears and place it in the center of the table. "Why don't you draw these?" He looks at me, the fruit bowl and back to me, his pencil tapping on the surface of the table.

He nods and starts the beginning of the bowl. I cross my arms and watch the fruit, my eyes unfocused to the rest of my surroundings, content to listen to the gentle scratching of Peeta's pencil on the rough paper. When the scratching stops I look up to see Peeta studying me, I glance at the paper and see he had started to draw me behind the fruit bowl, eyes unwavering, a blank expression on my face, arms crossed. "Don't move." He says quietly, and he goes back to his sketch, detailing my hair, the scars on my neck, shadowing and erasing. When he was done he lifted it up so I could see. He was remarkable. There I was sitting across the table from him with the fruit bowl in front of me. Perfect. So real you could almost grab the graphite version of the apple.

I nod my approval, trying my hardest to bring the corners of my mouth up. I must have done well, because Peeta smiles back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for reading! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the words. **

I have not slept in days. I am petrified of what my mind may come up with to torture me. I sit with a knit blanket wrapped around my legs at the patio table that Peeta had in his back yard. I never saw any need for my back yard, it is as blank and empty as the day I got it. Peeta must have had other ideas. There's a tree in the corner that's limbs go up and its as if they give up and droop down to the floor. There's a patch of colorful flowers in the other corner, a slab of concrete by the back door and a table with four chairs.

I stare at the tree, wondering how difficult it would be to nestle myself in it's branches, when Peeta slides through the back door with a blanket slung over his shoulder, his sketch pad tucked under his arm, and two cups of tea. "Come on, follow me." He instructs, he has had just as much sleep as me. I follow him across the yard toward the large weeping tree. He pulls back a curtain of branches and ushers me in. I take a cup as I walk past him.

He pulls the blanket off his shoulder and lays it out on the ground. I take my spot at one corner and him the opposite. Ever since the fruit bowl he has taken to just drawing pictures of me, in different rooms, different positions, anytime he needed his hands to still. I would always say yes, always follow him, I never questioned it. I would do anything to make Peeta happy.

I lean back on my elbows and stretch my legs all the way out in front of me and let my head drop back so I could look at the intricacy of the branches knotting and un-knotting in the breeze. It was beautiful, calming. I looked over and watched Peeta draw line after line. He didn't even really need me there. I'm sure he could do it all from memory. I watched how the muscles of his hands danced under their scared skin. The grafts on his hands almost identical to mine. "Peeta," my voice croaks from misuse. "How did you get burned?" I had never asked, only thought that he had made it close to where I was.

His brows pulled together, "Don't you remember?" I shook my head. "I was there, I pulled you back before the explosion." My eyes widen slightly, how will I ever repay this man who has done so much for me. He should have just let me die.

The memory of someones strong arms pulling me toward the ladder in the tunnels of the Capital spring to mind. "And in the tunnels?" I ask. He nods going back to his drawing.

I try to think back in my memories to see a flash of him, anything. The color of his gray uniform, his blond hair, nothing comes to mind but his arms. Even though the Capital had tortured into a mutt that was programed to kill me, he was still trying to protect me. Save me. "You still love me, real or not real?" I asked trying to pull the pieces together myself.

The scratching on the paper stops but he doesn't look up. "Real." He whispers so quietly that if you weren't expecting it, you would have thought it was the wind.

I hear the wood paneled blinds on the back door clatter against the window as the door is opened. "Katniss?" Haymitch's voice comes fluttering through the curtain of branches, "Katniss, Dr. Aurelius is on the phone!"

Everyday since moving in here, I had been forced to take his calls. No longer could I just let the phone ring. I stand up, brushing off my cloths and stomping my way across the backyard. I couldn't understand it but I felt relieved and what could only pass for as happy with Peeta's answer. Then almost immediately, unbelievably angry with myself. I felt as if I was still torturing Peeta. If he still loved me and I still didn't know what I felt for him, then I was just as good as the Capital, toying him along.

I snatch the phone out of Haymitch's hand and he retreats from the kitchen his hands in the air shaking his head. I'm sure he drinks an extra bottle just for the trouble I have caused him. "Hello," I practically spit into the phone.

"Hello Katniss," Dr. Aurelius' gentle tone comes through the line. "How are we doing today?"

Unfortunately over the phone I can't sit in silence and expect him to tell everyone I'm fine. Especially since my failed attempt to die. "I'm fine."

"Okay let's start with something easy," he chuckles to himself, he is no fool, he knows what my answers will be. "Did you sleep last night?"

I'm quiet for a minute, trying to figure out how I should answer, if I say no that would be the third day in a row, would mother send for me? If I say yes, and Haymitch has already told him everything I'm doing, would they just forget my mother and kidnap me in the night? "No." I reply, hoping for the lesser of two evils.

"Katniss, you need to sleep, your body needs it just as much as your mind." He chastises me. "If you don't sleep your deprivation will just cause you to hallucinate and I'm sure there are many images in that memory of yours that you would never like to see again." It almost sounded like an ultimatum, but I knew it was an empty warning.

I nod, then realizing he can't see me, "Okay, I'll try."

"Good. Are you still having nightmares?"

"Yes."

"Do you wake up suddenly, or are you trashing and screaming?"

"Thrashing and screaming."

"Are you going out at all in the day? Or are you just staying in the house?" His voice raises just a bit as he changes to a new topic.

"I don't go far."

"And by far..?"

"I went in the backyard today."

"That's good." He says slowly as he writes something down. I hear the heavy pen drop on his pad of paper, "You should take some walks, or go for a hunt. Try to get back into your old routine."

I sigh and tell Dr. Aurelius my first lie of the phone call. "Okay, I'll try." I would do nothing of the sort.

"Good." I hear the door creak open from other line, a female voice mumbled something, "Oh, okay, thank you." Dr. Aurelius responded to her, his voiced pulled away from the phone. "Katniss, I have to go, my secretary double booked, and it's an extremely busy season for me." His voice was happy, as if joking with me.

"I can bet." The image of all the Capital refugees and the surviving rebels springs to mind.

"I will talk to you tomorrow Katniss." And then the line goes dead. I hang it up and turn to go back outside, to the safety of the weeping tree.

I pull back the curtain to see Peeta lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, pencil still in one hand, he opens one eye to peek at me. "Hey."

"Hey," He whispers back. "How was your phone call?"

I shrug, I didn't even want to think about it. "Did you finish?" I pointed at the turned down sketch pad.

Peeta just shrugged. "My muse left."

I nod, not knowing if that was meant to be figurative or not. I walk across the small patch of grass in between the curtain of branches and the blanket and lie down a foot away from Peeta. Crossing my arms behind my head I watch the branches dance their slow waltz in the breeze. It was almost calming, until I could feel his eyes on me. I turned my head to look at him and sure enough, my eyes meet his dazzling blue ones.

He reaches his arm across the distance between us and tucks a stray hair behind my ear, resting his hand on my cheek. With out any thinking, my hand is on his keeping it in place. I felt this overwhelming urge to be in his arms and any cost. Just to feel his arms wrap around me, the safety of his embrace.

It was as if we had one mind, he slid the hand on my cheek out from under mine, and hooked his arm around my waist pulling me to his chest. As if with a mind of their own my arms wrap their way around his neck and he buries his face in the crook of my neck, breathing hard as if he was holding it until this very moment. I realize I'm doing the same. The relief in his words earlier pale in comparison. One of his hands tangle around my messy braid the other firmly around my waist, he turns to be on his back taking me with him.

Tears start to rim my eyes as I listen to the steady staccato beat of his heart. The hand that was in my hair pulls my chin up so I had to look at him. I blink in the movement, signaling the tears I held to fall, Peeta whips them away gently with his thumbs, each hand on the sides of my face now. He pulls my face to his gently meeting my lips in the middle. It was hardly a kiss, so gentle there was barely any movement. So much electricity between us that the hairs on my arm stood on end, goose bumps rising to meet them.

He pulled away so slightly, leaning his forehead against mine, so close we were sharing breath. My body had other ideas, the electricity causing a spark in my stomach, my arms and lips moving on their own accord. I rise up to meet Peeta again, but this time there is no gentleness.

This kiss said everything. It was hard, and fast, pulling and pushing, harsh and crushing. Both of us clawing at the other as if that would make us one. My fist clutched his hair at the nape of his neck and a fistful of his shirt, right over his heart. His fingers digging into the skin at my bare hip, my shirt raised over my stomach.

When I pulled away for air, Peeta rolled us over so that he was the one on top, assaulting my neck, tracing my scars with kisses. My arms wrapped around to his back, dragging my nails up and down. When our lips met again, it wasn't as violent as the second, but took much more from the first. It was slow and tender, firm and desperate. I couldn't stop them as a few more tears fell, my stomach in a jumble of nerves and knots. I couldn't understand how I had survived before this feeling. How I even knew how to put one foot in front of the other.

Peeta pulled back, his hand traced the scar on my face from Gale's whipping, his eyes never left mine. "Will you stay with me tonight?" I whisper before I had even thought of the ramifications of that. How could I do that to Peeta again, use him for a full night sleep, when I didn't even know how I felt about him. But this isn't like before I rationalize. This is different. This is more than it was before. This was a unrealistic need.

Peeta's lips lift ever so slightly and nods against my forehead, giving me one last kiss, before he leaned to the side pulling me next to him. We laid there for hours watching the branches dance.

When the light in our shelter started to dim, Peeta disengaged himself from my grasp standing. He held out his hand to help me up, I accepted it, and made no attempt to let go until I absolutely had to. Peeta apparently did not either, he didn't let go until we were back in the kitchen. There were three plates of food on the counter of some brown meat I thought looked like deer and some green vegetables. Since the Districts have come together, the food had gotten significantly better and with more then enough to go around.

Peeta picked up two plates and placed them on the table. I grabbed the silverware from the draw and handed him some. We sat across from each other and ate in silence. Haymitch strolled in shortly after and grabbed his own plate, silverware and sat in between us. When he was finished he pushed his plate away from him and gulped out of the bottle he had brought with him. "I have to go to the Capital for some business for a few days." He stated. "Plutarch has requested my presence." He practically mocked.

"How long will you be gone?" Peeta asked, clearing his throat.

"Three days. Paylor is sending a hovercraft to come and get me tomorrow." Haymitch wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"I thought you were supposed to watch us." I pushed my plate away as well, I had finished most of the meat and just played with the greens. My appetite was still not back to where it should be.

"Well, I was thinking about having someone stay with you, but then I thought about just guilting you both into living." Haymitch smiled to himself. "See you both made me a promise." He looked at both of us pointedly. We did make a promise. As if we didn't remember, he continued, "You both promised me that you would protect the other till death. So I'm making you watch each other."

I looked at Peeta from across the table. I knew as well as he, that Haymitch was right. No matter how much the other wanted to die, we would always make sure that it wouldn't happen.

"So do we have a deal?" As if Haymitch had to ask, Peeta and I both nod our heads. "Good, so you'll both be in one piece." He clapped his hands loudly and picked up his plate excusing himself from the table and leaving the room.

Peeta just glanced at me before he picked up his plate and mine and put them in the sink. He picked up his sketch pad from where he left it on the counter by the door. "Come on," he holds out his hand to me, and of course I take it. The feeling of his arms around me and his lips on mine still urging my body to his.

He pulled me up the stairs and down the hallway and stopped at the doorway of his room. His hand stilled on the knob. "Do you mind staying in here tonight?" His gaze caught mine. "I want to paint my sketch," He bowed his head, "But I understand if you-" I cut him off with my fingers.

"Open the door." He kissed the tips of my fingers as he opened the door. The rest of the house was an extreme contrast to this room. All white light and clean lines, this was as if a rainbow had exploded, pictures and memories coated the walls, telling stories of a whole other world.

My hand drifted from his as I walked to room starting at the beginning, starting with a burnt loaf of bread in someones flour coated hands, the rain dripping the powder down to a muddy puddle below. White polka dots marring the dark substance.

Running my fingers further down the wall to a train racing through a meadow, to the Victor crown broken in two, and on the far wall a depiction of a flower filled field, the weeping tree from the backyard to the right. When I got closer I finally realized what flowers those where. Katniss flowers.

Peeta grabbed a stool from the desk under the window and sat in front of the weeping tree, sliding his paint cart closer to him. His attention solely on the work at hand. I laid on my stomach in the center of his bed, my chin being held up my hands and watched his arm make gentle strokes across the wall.

I never noticed what he was painting until he finished. He stood and moved to the side, shoving his paint stained hands in his pockets, leaving paint on the outsides. There I was in a field of katniss flowers, leaned back on my hands, legs stretched out, head back, tears staining my face. Although they didn't seem like sad tears, the way he had made the sun hit my face and the picture of serenity that he had created could promote no despair. This was not a place to be sad. "It's beautiful." I whisper.

He smiled, shuffling his feet. "Dr. Aurelius told me to do this. Paint how I felt at that moment." He crossed the room and laid down on his side next to me. "First it was just a tree in an empty field and a gray sky, no sunlight. Then came the flowers. Just appearing to me one night," He paused, breathing deep. "I had finally had the courage to tell you about it, to show you, and then I found you." I feel the color drain from my face. "I patched you up the best I could," he nodded toward my arm, "but I'm not a healer." He smiled at that.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling crossing his arms. "Then came the sun, first it was behind clouds, and then it was a clear day, sunlight touching everything." He rolled back to look at me, almost excited, "And that's just the thing. It keeps changing, it keeps getting better." He studied his art, "Anything can happen in that field."

I looked back to the wall, "Where are you?"

He chuckled pulling me closer to him, "I'm not sure yet," He kissed my forehead and tucked me into his side. "I'm waiting for you to find me." his voice vibrated through my body.

I smile against his chest, "I think I'm very close."

I felt his heart speed up just the slightest, "I think you are too."

When the sun came up that morning, Haymitch burst through the door, "Oh so we're back to this now, are we?" No one answered him, I rubbed my eyes. "Well I'm leaving now." His eyebrows raised, arms stretched out as if expecting something.

"What? Do you want a hug or something?" I ask sitting up to look at him.

He smiled something devilish, "Well it was worth a shot. I wanted to let you know that _someone_ thought that you two couldn't handle watching each other, so _he decided_ he would babysit."

My eyebrows knit in confusion, his tone suggesting a little force. "Who is it?" I looked to the doorway and there he stood, in a new District 13 version of a Capital soldiers uniform. He would have looked extremely handsome, if his glare did not suggest that death was coming.

Gale stood rigid staring daggers at Peeta and I. The last conversation we had forgotten in emotion. He was visibly trying to calm himself, looking away from us and then back, then landed on the far wall with the tree. He stopped, his face slackened, turned and walked away.

I got out of Peeta's bed, and paced the floor. "What the fuck, Haymitch!? After everything, you let him come back here!" My voice rising and cracking, as this volume had not been used in almost a year.

"Whoa!" Haymitch held up his hands, "I didn't let that _grown man_ do anything! He came on his own free will, worried about your sorry ass!"

I couldn't think of anything else to say to him, I knew that that was exactly what Gale did, he would most definitely refuse protest. I punched Haymitch as hard as I could in the arm before crossing the hall and slamming my bedroom door behind me.

"Good luck with that one, your going to need it!" Haymitch said far too loud if he didn't mean for me to hear. I knew I was meant to. Whether he was talking to Gale or Peeta I didn't know. I didn't care.

I hated that I was angry at Haymitch. I should be angry with Gale, and in a way I was but not for this. When I saw him, my heart started beating faster, and I was relieved. I could never be with Gale, I would never be able to see him in that way now.

Then there was Peeta. What must he of thought of the scene I had just made. I rubbed my face with my hands, holding them there. I needed a hunt.

I stomped out of my room, slamming the door, down the stairs, pushing past Haymitch, and out the front door.

I marched across the street and into my house, not stopping to say hi to Greasy Sae knitting in the living room, her granddaughter playing with a doll on the floor. I opened the study where I knew it would be. Slipped on my father's hunting jacket, my bow and sheath and pulled a spare game bag from the closet. Laced up the boots I left there and was out the door, headed toward the woods without a word.

**Please, please, please, pretty please, review! It makes me want to write more when I know someone wants to read it. Thanks so much for taking the time to read my work! **


	3. Chapter 3

Four squirrels and one large fox later, I stood on the steps to Peeta's house too afraid to go in. The sun was starting to go down and bathed the deserted street in twilight. In the woods I was all courageous and full of gusto, I was ready to take these two on, whatever they could throw at me. Now my stomach was in knots, my hands were shaking, and I couldn't think of any of the defenses I had come up with while hunting. It was absolutely useless, but I couldn't stay out here all night.

The door creaked loudly as I try to sneak in undetected. I should have known I could never get away with that. I look down the hallway in the dark house, the only light coming from above the small table in the kitchen. Under that light sat Gale and Peeta, both of there arms crossed and faces down, the light distorting there features. Neither one looked up as I walked in.

I squared my shoulders and started my march to the kitchen, the closer I got the more the confidence I had just had dissolved, until my feet shuffled their way to the empty sink. I dropped the game bag there and placed my hands on the counter on either side of it. A thousand questions and scenarios ran threw my head, none of them seemed right. I settled for turning around to face them and crossing my arms. Gale was the first one to look at me. "So, is this it?" He asked, his posture like a wild animal's about to attack.

"Is this what?" My voice comes out raspy, exhausted.

"Have you _chosen_?" He practically spits at me.

I'm immediately furious. He had no right, no claim. "I don't see how that would be any of your business if I had." I move my hands to rest on the table, closer to Peeta's side, leaning toward Gale, "It will never be you. I would never be able to touch you without seeing my little sister burn to ash." I knew as I was saying it how cruel it truly was, but I could not get the words to stop. I stand up straight covering my mouth with my hand.

Gale looked as if he had gotten shot. The surprise, the sheer pain. I knew then that I would never be able to take those words back, to erase the memory of them, but then I think of Prim, and I don't regret saying them. I take my hand away from my mouth. Gale rubs his face. "I didn't.." He trailed off, "If I'd had known.." He stops again. Nods, as if accepting it. "There's nothing that I can do is there?" He leans his elbows on the table.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "you can't bring her back."

Peeta's chair scratches against the wood and he's out the back door before I can stop him.

Gale's eyes are still on me, Peeta's movement not even a small distraction. "So this is it? We're going to leave it like this? Katniss you know-"

I put my hand up to stop him and take the seat that Peeta had left. "I do. If you had known, it never would have happened. But it did Gale. And right now I'm having trouble telling those two truths apart."

Gale just nods. "Do you love him?"

I sigh, "I don't know."

"Come on, Katniss. How do you not know?" He pushes, his arms, they bang against the table.

"I know I'd rather be with him then without. I know that I can't sleep through a night without him there. I don't know it that is love or if I'm just being selfish and torturing him." I didn't want to tell Gale this, I barely even wanted to voice this. But I knew that he needed this, needed to know where I was.

"Katniss," Gale breaths, "Love is selfish." With that he stood from the table, "I can't stay here, but I will be in town, I will check in on you both everyday Haymitch is gone. But I can't stay here." He turned and walked out of the house, the door not slamming half as hard as it should have.

I sat there in silence for a long time. Running through every thought, every memory, every conversation I've ever had with Gale. The first time we met to the last time we kissed, to just moments ago. I felt my heart soften in the pain, nothing as gut wrenching as when Peeta had died, but a dull constant throb that only served as a reminder.

Only the crack of lightning pulled me out of my thoughts. Peeta. He was still outside. I yanked the back door open ran into the rain blindly. "Peeta!" I called, the wind and rain muffling my voice. "Peeta!"

The wind whipped the branches of the only tree, revealing the bottom of someones shoes. I sprinted toward the shelter of the tree. "Peeta," I knelt down in front of him, he had his knees up to his chin, his arms wrapped around them, soaking wet and shaking. "We have to go inside." I put a hand on his arm, ready to run.

He just looked at me with some emotion that I couldn't place, his brows knitted together. He took my hand from his arm calmly, betraying what was on his face and stood, shuffling his feet toward the door. I stood stunned, what had I done? What had I said? I follow his example and have to drag my feet into the house.

Peeta was not in the kitchen when I finally reached the safety of the house. He was not in the living room either, but I followed the tracks he had made with his muddy shoes all the way to his bedroom, door closed. I knocked softly, which was received by the sound of the lock being turned.

I laid my hand flat on the smooth wood as if I could will it open. How had I hurt him? I wracked my brain for something, anything that I might have said. "Peeta?" I whispered through the door. Silence. I turned around and opened my door, stepping inside.

I laid down on my bed, staring out the window, unfocused, for hours. I watched the rain drip down the window pane, watched as it turned pink, to deep dark red, the streets of the Capital behind it. Those same streets that we ran down on my fake mission, when Boggs passes my window, hitting the hidden landmine there, bits of him hitting the window.

Mitchell caught in the barbed wire net, Finnick fighting off mutts, the lawn of President Snow's mansion. Prim. I sit straight up in bed, the rain still pouring out the window, it was just a dream. A horrible, horrible dream.

It was late, the moon was high in the night sky. The house was pitch black, except for the light flowing up stairs. I follow it, hoping that Peeta is there, that he will hold me, and chase my dreams away. But he's not there. I had left the light on in the kitchen. I sat down in the chair that Peeta had once occupied.

Gale had left, and who knew when I would see him again, giving my heart a deep bruise. But Peeta locking himself in his room, when I knew without a doubt that I would see him very soon, caused my heart to feel absolutely shattered. I couldn't breathe without the pain causing a shortness.

I heard the tap of Peeta's Capital-made leg before I saw him. I didn't want to turn, I didn't want him to see the tears in my eyes, threatening to fall. "Where's Gale?"

"He said he couldn't stay here." I twist my fingers together, avoiding his gaze like a scolded child.

"Why?" He whispered, moving to the chair across from me.

I look at him then, shouldn't it have been obvious? That's when I notice the emotion that I couldn't place is still there. I should have been able to, I'd seen it so much in the recent years. Betrayal. I betrayed him. "Because I don't love him." He must know that.

"Don't you?" He retorts.

"Not in the way he wants, and I can't even feel about him how I used anymore." I felt my cheeks flush, I hated even admitting that much to him. "He was my friend."

He just stares at me trying to figure out his next move. "Then what am I?" I bow my head already knowing I can't answer that. His fist hits the table. "Damn it Katniss! Am I just some consolation prize?"

"No! Of course not! Peeta, please, I don't know how I feel." I beg him.

He closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing. "How do you not know?" His question drips in exhaustion.

The irony of the situation does not escape me. In the same position, same chair, same question. "I know I don't want to be with out you." I breathe, taking some of what I had said earlier. "Me. Katniss. Me." I emphasis. No one is making me feel this way but him. "Can that be enough right now?" I inch my hands across the table hoping he would do the same.

I saw the muscles in his arms twitch, fighting movement. He watched me for a long time as I pleaded for him silently. I was flooded with relief when his hand met mine.

Over the next couple of days, we did not speak about how I felt or that conversation, we didn't really speak much at all. At least not an actual conversation. We slept in the same bed, Peeta's arms wrapped around me, dreams clear of any horror or nonexistent. Gale had made two appearances, he would bring the dinner the Greasy Sae made for us, no doubt he was staying with her, He would make sure we were both a live and leave. He did not come to say good bye before he went back to District 2.

"Katniss, Peeta!" Haymitch called up to us, slamming the front door. "Come here." He practically sang.

Haymitch had sat in one of the arm chairs that he had turned to face toward the couch. He ushered me and Peeta to take a seat.

"Alright," Haymitch clapped his hands on his knees. "So, neither one of you is going to like this."

Peeta looked at me, I shook my head, not knowing anything, he turned his gaze back to Haymitch, "What are you talking about? What did Plutarch want?"

"Well the reason I was called there was because they want to invite you both to the Capital for a festival." Haymitch wore a sheepish grin, there was something he wasn't saying.

"And?" Peeta pressed.

"They want to air it." I answer for him. Haymitch claps condescendingly.

"Give the girl a prize. Their doing a whole theme of it, _Remember the Victors_," Haymitch waved his arm as if painting the banner in air. "They want the whole nation rebuilding, and they want to show how the 'victors are excelling in this brand new world, so close to the anniversary of the last Hunger Games', Fulvia's words." Had it been a year already.

"Excelling?" I snort. That had to be a joke. "This is excelling?"

"That's pretty much the same reaction I had. But think of it this way, the Capital offers a lot of amenities that we never really got to take advantage of before, you know without the threat of dieing." At our confused looks he continued, but not without an exasperated sigh, "Katniss, don't you miss your special bow? Perhaps you would like some more arrows, you know, that you don't make yourself, good ones. Peeta, how's your paint supply?" At our almost protests he holds up a hand, "Sure we can order it, but what can beat the satisfaction of picking it out yourself?"

"Plutarch told you to say that didn't he?" I ask, Haymitch points to his nose.

"They're trying to honor us." Haymitch adds.

"We don't have a choice do we?" Peeta asked. Haymitch points to his nose again.

"We've got a house full of winners here. Well, I need a drink!" Haymitch claps his hands and stands, almost dancing to the liquor cabinet. "Let the games begin!" He cheered us and took down half the bottle.

**Thank you all so much for reading! Please please please review! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't, anything, just please, please review! **


	4. Chapter 4

Haymitch had successfully been completely drunk for two days, the minute Effie Trinket showed up on Peeta's doorstep, Haymitch had taken that as an invitation to get as inebriated as possible. Effie would tsk at him when ever he would pass her, and he would respond by carefully chosen hand gestures. "Come on now," Effie said practically shoving us out the door, "We have a big day ahead of us!" Effie took the lead of our little group as we walked out of the Victor's Village, clipboard in hand, heels clacking on the pave stones, and toward the train station next to the Justice building. Peeta and I bringing up the rear.

Steam rolled out from the train, as we all piled in, Effie, Peeta and I, and stumbling Haymitch. Effie had brought some people from the Capital to help us, one stylist I had never seen before, and two servants, that I was assured are not Avoxes and are getting paid handsomely for their services.

A camera crew came from one of the back train cars and exited, Effie leaned in my ear, "They are going to stay back and film some rebuilding." Her voice tight with anticipated excitement. I nod, already knowing that's what was going on, Effie ushered us into the dinning car.

Every inch of the long mahogany table was laden with food. Small sandwiches in three-tier trays, soups in large serving bowls, bread from all twelve districts, pastries with chocolate and vanilla cream fillings, that Peeta took turns examining. Fizzy juice in every color in pitchers lined the middle of the table. Miniature cakes with a sugar mockingjay placed on top of the white frosting cloud on sparkling glass plates in between each pitcher.

Haymitch had headed straight to his car, and Effie had positioned herself on a plush chair, checking things off a list. I plopped myself on the couch across from her. "Well, we should be in the Capital by tomorrow at 2:00 PM, then," She looked up examining my face, "you need to get prepared for your interview at 6:00 PM, then it's on to the festival at 8:00 PM." She looked back up at me, making sure I was paying attention. "Oh it's going to be wonderful!"

I tried to catch Peeta's gaze but he was too interested in the small cakes then anything that Effie was saying.

Effie pulled my attention back to her, "Oh no, Katniss, I almost forgot, this is Mila Valley." She swept her arm out to the woman still hanging by the door of the train. "She's your new stylist. She studied under Cinna, you know." I hadn't really noticed her before, her appearance so easily looked over. She was not flashy or gaudy like Effie was, or anyone else for that matter. She had a pale, olive skin tone, like she had not seen the sun for months, her dead-of-night black hair was pin straight and hung to the middle of her back. When she moved into the light, I could see that it had a blue shine to it, she extended her hand out to me. I shook it, and then saw the most breath-taking thing about her. Her eyes. Rimmed in a bright silver eyeliner, no doubt tattooed, was just as subtle as Cinna's gold. Her actual eyes were the exact color of bottom side of a maple leaf, circled by a thick line of evergreen pine needles.

"Cinna talked of you often," She said, her voice melodic. "If you have some time before we get to the Capital, I would love it if you would come look at the dresses you'll be wearing tomorrow. We can always change anything you don't like." She bowed her head, as if afraid I would strike her.

"I'm sure they're beautiful." I try to reassure her.

When she raised her head she had a brilliant smile, "Cinna was a great mentor."

I couldn't help but smile back, her's was just so infectious, the feeling she gave off, too calming. "I have to agree with you there."

She nodded and left the car. "Isn't she just so positively tranquil?" Effie asked to no one in particular. Mila did have an extremely calming effect, that didn't just seem to have an effect on me. Peeta was slumped in one of the plush arm chairs around the table, Effie leaned back in her own chair, clearly relaxed. No wonder Cinna took Mila under his wing.

Haymitch made a short appearance at dinner, even if it was just to grab a new bottle of liquor and a plate of food. Effie ran through her list with anyone that would listen ever half hour, and Peeta and I tried are best to avoid her. After dinner however I followed Mila down to the dress car. "Now, I want you to know that I worked on these designs with Cinna, so I really hope you approve." She took a key from a small pocket on the inside of her sleeve on her biceps, a pocket just big enough for a key, and unlocked the door.

On a mannequin in the middle of the room was a strapless black dress, it had a heart shaped neckline, and went straight down to the hips, then fanned out elegantly, the underside of the folds were a deep red, as if the dress was coal cooling. Mila circled around me as I stood in awe of the dress, it sparkled just slightly as she pulled up the bottom of the dress, "Cinna and I worked on this design for days!" She exasperated. "We wanted a material, that would shine a gold red color no matter what color light hit it. It took us forever to find it!" She smiled at the memory, "But when we did, it was as if it were meant for this dress and the wearer."

I gently brushed my finger tips along the fabric. "What is it?" I had never seen this before, small stones were sewn into the dress in triangle designs, I plucked one in my fingers.

"They're diamonds." She moved to the back of the dress, unhooking it and looking at me from over the mannequin, "Made from coal. Would you mind if I have you try it on? I want to make sure I got the measurements correct."

I stripped myself and held my arms over my head as Mila pulled the dress down into position. It felt like a second skin, it fit absolutely perfect.

"You'll have elbow length gloves, and short sweater to go over it if you would like. Effie said you may want to cover your scars?" Mila didn't even flinch as she traced one on my shoulder.

"No. I want them visible." I wanted the proof of what had happened written plainly on my skin for all to see.

"Good." Mila smiled at me. "That's what I wanted you to say." Mila started undoing the ties at the back of the dress, and let me step out of it, "I should tell you," She said to place the dress back on the mannequin. "I'm not originally from the Capital." She looked back at me, once she was done, twisting her hands together. "I'm from District 11. I won the games six years ago. From the minute I saw you," She paused trying to find the right words, deciding, she put her hands on my shoulders, "I knew you would change everything. I just knew it." She smiled, walking toward the door and ushering me past the threshold.

"What did they do to you?" I asked once she had locked the door to the car.

She turned to look at me, and was more fierce then I had ever seen her. "I was sold at auctions for years for all sorts of different things, love, anger, revenge, until Cinna, of course. He bought me from an auction and saved me. He said no one should be able to be bought, every human was priceless. He never touched me. He would confide in me, tell me things, take me to events, taught me to be a stylist. Taught me everything he knew. I loved him very much."

"I'm so sorry, I never wanted anything to happen to him."

"No need to be sorry, little bird." She held my face in her hands, "Cinna knew what he was doing. He knew they would kill him for what he did, and he knew it wouldn't be quick. He had told me goodbye before that night."

I knew in my heart that it was true. Cinna was a brilliant man and would know the consequences. But my head still screamed that she was wrong, that it was all my doing. I just nod. "Where are the others? Octavia? Venia and Flavius?"

"I wasn't supposed to come," Mila blushed. "I begged to, in fact. I just really wanted to meet you."

I smile, "Thank you." and I couldn't help myself but I wrapped my arms around her for a hug. The hug I was never able to give Cinna. Thank fully she returned it.

"Katniss?" I heard Peeta's voice coming down the long hallway.

"I'm down here," I called, letting go of Mila, "Thank you so much, I can't wait wear that dress."

Mila smiled wide, showing her pure white teeth, "I should be thanking you." She patted my cheek and headed toward her car, I turned the opposite way to meet Peeta.

"Hey, where'd you go?" He asked taking my hand in his, when I had left he was speaking with the chef about the pastries.

I entwined our fingers, the action almost involuntary, our bodies working with a mind of their own, always needing to be touching. "Mila showed me the dress for tomorrow. She's just as good as Cinna." I gush.

"That's impressive, especially for you to say." He smiled at me.

"How was the pastry talk?" I tried changing the subject, as we headed toward the car designated for one of us, it didn't really matter who at this point.

"Good, good, he's going to write down a couple of new recipes for me." I loved it when Peeta baked, I always benefited from his delicious experiments. "Cream Puffs and eclairs, is what he called them. They were the ones when we first got on the train."

I smiled up at him, "I can't wait." It was sincere. I was looking forward to it. That I was looking forward to anything was a miracle, with the impending festival in our honor just a few hours away. I stopped him in the middle of the hall, "What are we going to do about this festival?"

"Well we're going to do what we always do. We'll look out for each other, protect each other, and from what Haymitch says it sounds like this is _actually_ a good thing."

"But what if it's not? What if it's a lie?" The thought had crossed my mind several times since Haymitch had told us, but I never wanted to think about it in depth. That if this was my death sentence I would walk right into it unflinching, full of fire. But now, here, with Peeta holding my hand, I was more terrified then ever. I could not loose him again.

Peeta pulled me into the car we would be staying, sat me on the bed and knelt down in front of me, my hands in his. "I know who you are. I know what the Capit- what Snow did to me. I know I love you and I would never let anyone hurt you. You will not loose me again." His eyes were glued to mine, unwavering, as I let out a shaky, relieved sigh.

I nod pulling him onto the bed to lay beside me. "Okay, I believe you." I whisper, the lights had begun to dim, and Peeta played with my hair soothingly.

"It's going to be okay. I'm here. Always." Was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep, wrapped in Peeta's arms.

That night I dreamed of Peeta, in a field of katniss flowers and a weeping tree, holding out a bouquet of primroses. I sat in a circle of the same flower I had given to Rue, legs out straight, leaning back on my hands. Peeta was dressed in the same clothes he had worn to the first Reaping and was beautiful. The sun shone bright off of his curls, his eyes glistening with what could only be descibed as love, and I felt a warm fluttering in my stomach. I wanted him to love me, with a hunger I had never felt. Suddenly I was terrified that I would never feel this, trying to attach this moment to my life, to make it real.

I woke up with a start, jarring Peeta from his own sleep. "Nightmare?" His voice was gravely from sleep. His arm tightened around me.

For the first time in months I felt safe. "No. I found you." He opened his eyes then, remembering our conversation about his painting, and all I could see was love shining back at me.

**Had to put a little fluff in there at the end, couldn't help myself. Please, please tell me what you think! Just scroll down a bit and review ; ) **


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